


Time Lends No Refuge

by samisaywhat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, Falling In Love, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samisaywhat/pseuds/samisaywhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asking Scott was a lost cause. He doesn't know who else he can ask though. Allison's seen Derek but she doesn't exactly like Derek, and that is grounds enough for her to lie about the wet dreams he's sure she's had. He absolutely cannot ask Lydia without it clueing her onto the fact that she is no longer the sole object of his lust and affections. Not that she'd care. </p><p>Which leaves people like Derek's betas, who don't really show up to school that often—well Jackson does, but Stiles doesn't speak to him on principle alone—or Chris Argent and his Dad. Which, obviously, no. Not gonna happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Lends No Refuge

Stiles knows he has a problem when he stops dreaming about how silky Lydia's hair will feel between his fingers after an amazing round of sex, and instead dreams about the feel of stubble on his neck, and if Derek's hair is as rough as the rest of him, or is it actually soft, and—

And Stiles has a problem. 

He tells himself that it isn't actually a problem for weeks; he's a teenage boy, and a healthy one at that. And anyone with eyes has probably dreamt about Derek once or twice—or every night for the past two weeks in Stiles' case. He's so sure of this fact that he doesn't even think twice before asking Scott. At lunch. Public space and all. 

"Do I what!?" Scott shouts, spewing bits of macaroni and cheese everywhere. Everywhere happening to include Stiles' face. 

"You have super hearing, dude. I know you heard me." Stiles wipes at his face with the illegally thin napkin that comes with his spork. 

"Oh, I heard you. I'm just not sure if I heard you right."

"Sure, sure. Let me reiterate that for you: Have you ever had any dreams about Derek? Like, without clothes?" Stiles says very slowly. 

Scott groans loudly and drops his head into his hands, mumbling to himself like a loon. Stiles waits patiently for Scott to finish having his mini-crisis. 

He doesn't wait very long. "Is that a yes?"

Scott's head shoots up, and if he wasn't a werewolf, Stiles might think he looks a little ill. "No! It's definitely a no! Why the hell would you ask me something like that?" 

"Well I—"

"Oh my God! Don't tell me _you_ have!"

"So maybe—"

"You have! Stiles!"

Stiles gives up trying to talk over the melodrama that is Scott and decides to drink his carton of milk all in one giant gulp instead. Needless to say, he spills most of it onto his shirt.  

He keeps thinking about it all through Chemistry, easily ignoring Harris and his annoying side comments about today's youth. Asking Scott was a lost cause. He doesn't know who else he can ask though. Allison's seen Derek but she doesn't exactly like Derek, and that is grounds enough for her to lie about the wet dreams he's sure she's had. He absolutely cannot ask Lydia without it clueing her onto the fact that she is no longer the sole object of his lust and affections. Not that she'd care. 

Which leaves people like Derek's betas, who don't really show up to school that often—well Jackson does, but Stiles doesn't speak to him on principle alone—or Chris Argent and his Dad. Which, obviously, no. Not gonna happen. 

Thinking about it turns into daydreaming about it; the way Derek would push Stiles against a wall or down onto his bed and have his terrible way with him. He thinks—hopes—that Derek will be rough with him, leaving marks with his mouth and fingertips. It's completely different from how he wants it to be with Lydia. Stiles would be gentle with her, wouldn't dare to mark her perfect skin. She'd leave scratches on his back, maybe, but not because she wants to look at them later. Derek would leave the marks because he's a possessive bastard. Probably. 

Scott, who hasn't been able to look at Stiles since lunch, suddenly shoves at his shoulder with an incredulous, "Dude!"

It pulls Stiles out of his daydream though, and he realizes he's half hard in his jeans, and that the whole class is staring at the table he and Scott share. 

"Sorry." Stiles mumbles half heartedly and directs all his attention back to his notebook. 

Harris strangely doesn't say anything. Scott groans and leans close to whisper, "Seriously? In class?"

So maybe it _is_ a problem, this Derek Thing. 

It doesn't become a Big Problem until Stiles starts dreaming about actually getting fucked by Derek. It's usually just blow jobs or hand jobs, or sometimes even really intense makeouts—which really proves how easy Stiles is since even that gets him off in record time—but then Dream Derek suddenly pulls the lube out of Stiles' drawer and slicks up his fingers with a hungry look on his face. And Stiles would love to think that Derek wants to use it to jerk Stiles off, but he already sucked Stiles' brains out through his dick.

Dream Derek then sets out to give Stiles the most pleasurable fingering of his entire life. He's done it to himself before, but Derek's fingers are much more talented, and he can get deeper than Stiles ever can. It's absolutely amazing, and starts to get ridiculous when Derek insists on using four fingers. Stiles is pretty much dying from the lack of blood in his brain by the time Derek pulls out, and he should feel just a bit embarrassed by the fact that his dream self was going to come simply from Derek's fingers, none of which were in any proximity to his dick.

Those thoughts fly from his mind when Derek slicks himself up, and that's where the Big Problem really comes from. Stiles has never seen Derek's dick in his dreams before. Derek usually just gets Stiles off, and Stiles wakes up with a boner and the need to do laundry. Derek is mostly clothed in all of dreams, but now he's completely naked and ready to have _actual sex_ with Stiles. 

Needless to say, Stiles wakes up achingly hard and with the serious need to do laundry. Again. 

Of course it also happens to be the first day in weeks that Derek shows up at the school in his stupid leather jacket and stupid jeans, equally stupidly dressed betas in tow. Scott, for some reason that Stiles cannot understand, decides that he has a mighty need to approach Derek, and drags—literally drags—Stiles along.  

"What are you doing here?" Is Scott's fantastic opening line. 

Erica rolls her eyes. "None of your business," she says just as Isaac says, "Picking up Boyd."

Derek eyes the sky as if he's being punished, which would be funny if he hadn't hand picked his betas. Well no, actually, that makes it funnier. Boyd looks equally pained. Stiles doesn't know why, but Boyd has actually shown up to school for the past few days. He thinks it's nice that Derek would choose to pick him up afterwards, remembering how Boyd complained about not having a car. 

Stiles is about to make a comment about Derek being a soccer mom when he remembers his dream, and then he can't help but stare at Derek's hands. Derek has really nice fingers. 

Scott grabs Stiles' shoulder and pulls him away from Derek and his pack, and Stiles doesn't even know what the hell is happened or what was said. He was too busy trying to memorize Derek's fucking cuticles. 

"Can't you control that?" Scott whispers as he leads Stiles to his jeep. 

"Control what?" Because seriously, Stiles has no clue what's going on. 

"You were looking at Derek and smelling like..." Scott scrunches up his face. 

It takes Stiles a second to realize what Scott is implying, but he does. "Oh God." 

"Yeah."

Stiles feels ill. "Do you think he noticed?"

"I _know_ he noticed." 

Apparently Stiles needs to start carrying around a shovel in his trunk. "I think I need to go home and bury myself in the yard." 

"It's not that big of a deal." Scott offers, seemingly forgetting the way he reacted when Stiles first told him about his dreams. 

"It is very much a big deal."

And that is the last time Stiles ever tries to tell himself otherwise. This Derek Thing? Big Problem. 

*

As is expected, Stiles successfully turns the Big Problem into a Huge Problem by getting a very unfortunate boner from just seeing Derek. The dirt and sweat and _blood_ —not Derek's—should have really disgusted him, but neither did much to distract him from the feral grin on Derek's face, or his fantastic abs. He honestly doesn't even have a chance to react before his jeans are suddenly a little too tight. Derek seems to notice it before Stiles' _dick_ even understands what's going on, flaring his nostrils in a weirdly attractive way. Stiles thinks that Derek might actually say something, but then Scott is dragging him away once again which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he gets to avoid Derek for one more day, but on the other hand he can't stay and look at Derek's _abs_. 

Scott shakes his head as Stiles buckles his seatbelt. "You are a menace."

"Nice world choice there, Scott," Stiles says mockingly. "Now buckle up before anyone gets the urge to talk to me." Stiles did not miss the way Erica laughed when Scott started dragging him away. Thankfully the Jeep wasn't so far, and now Stiles can drop Scott off at his house and be alone with his hand for the rest of the night. 

Just as Stiles is ready to reverse out of the woods, Erica taps on his window. Stiles jumps, swears loudly, and strangles himself on his seatbelt. Scott leans over him to roll the window down, even though the two wolves could probably just talk through the glass without any problem at all. 

" _Stiles_." Erica smirks, not-so-subtly sniffing the air. Stiles groans because _of course_. He totally called it. 

"Can we please ignore this?" He asks Erica, the dashboard, _heaven_. She just laughs, gripping the top of the Jeep for support. 

"You think I'd pass up this opportunity?" She asks, and well, yeah, Stiles should know better. Erica wouldn't give up the chance to make fun of him even if it killed her. "So, what exactly caused this... Reaction?" 

Stiles does not miss the way she glances at his pants. "Nothing!"

"Is it me? I knew you couldn't resist me for too long. I don't think Boyd would appreciate it, though." She tossed her hair back, looking simultaneously bored and flattered, however that's possible. 

"No, it's not you!" 

Erica pouts but she doesn't back down. Thankfully Scott cuts in. "Maybe it's the adrenaline."

Stiles could kiss him. "Yeah, exactly!"

"Oh, please. Do I look stupid—"

"I overheard Lydia and Jackson talking one time after a Lacrosse game," Scott says loudly, "and Jackson was complaining about all the pent up tension. Lydia said she'd gladly—" 

" _Ew_ , gross. TMI, especially if it's about Lizard brains." Erica wrinkles her nose at them before shrugging her shoulders. "Fine, have it your way. I'm sure _Derek_ will figure it out."

With that, she turns around and practically skips away. Stiles watches her leave with his mouth wide open, a wonderful place for flies to nest. 

"Uh, Stiles?" Scotts pokes him tentatively on the shoulder. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Stiles collapses against the steering wheel, wonders if anyone has ever died of simultaneously being too aroused and too embarrassed. How would that look on his grave stone? 

*

A week goes by without Derek in sight, much to Stiles' disappointment. Nothing new and ferociously supernatural has come around (yet), and it seems his teachers know. Every one of them decides to give projects, all of them requiring some type of essay. So instead of running out into the woods and injuring himself, Stiles stays home and stares at his computer screen for hours on end. A truly riveting experience. Honest. 

Scott stops by almost every day so they can work together. Scott needs someone to proofread, and Stiles needs someone to tell him that his essay actually makes sense and isn't four pages of jumbled half thoughts. He ends up having to redo his English essay— _Catcher In The Rye_ —twice, but mostly the projects go rather well. Scott finishes all of his in three days, with the help of both Stiles and Allison. Stiles takes just a bit longer because no matter how many pills he swallows, sometimes he can't get his brain to settle down. He has about 30 sticky notes of random thoughts he had during breaks because he can hardly remember any of his strokes of genius otherwise. 

The dreams don't stop; if anything, they get worse. Some are vague and short, but still hot as hell, and other are too vivid for Stiles to even deal with. Dream Derek gets kinkier by the night, and while Stiles does not think there is a chance in hell for him to ever actually get with Derek, he sure as hell hopes those kinks are real. Dream Derek has gone and ruined Stiles' innocent mind, successfully turning _him_ into the kinky bastard. It's not fair. 

Stiles is actually a little worried about his current obsession with having sex with Derek when's he's never _actually_ _had_ sex with Derek. 

"I can't believe you're in love with Derek," Scott says conversationally while they're playing a celebratory match of Soul Calibur. Stiles was winning, but now he can't even guard Scott's attacks seeing as he dropped his controller and all. 

He watches Maxi fall off the side of the stage. "I am _not_ in love with _Derek_."

"Another round or do you want to change your character?" Scott picks up Stiles controller from the floor and deposits it onto his lap. 

"Another round since I was kicking your ass before you said what you said!" 

Scott shrugs and starts up their rematch, waiting patiently as Stiles still doesn't pick up his controller after the countdown. 

"I am not in love with Derek." Stiles insists, feeling more defensive than is probably necessary. 

"When's the last time you looked at Lydia?" 

Stiles blinks. Lydia is in most of his classes. "Today?" He winces when it comes out as a question. 

"The braids were really working for her, right?" Scott stares at Stiles from the corner of his eye, silently judging him. 

"...yeah?" In truth, Stiles can't remember what Lydia's hair looked like, or what she was wearing. He honestly can't remember looking at her yesterday, either.

"Hah!" Scott jumps off the bed, controller falling from his lap onto the floor. He points at Stiles with a stupid grin on his face. "Lydia wasn't even in school today!" 

Stiles gapes. "Yes she was. Lydia never misses school!" She would have perfect attendance if it weren't for Peter and the trauma he caused. 

"Allison and Lydia went on some campus tour. I know because I _love_ Allison, and I notice when she's not around." Scott places his hands on his hips and stares at the ceiling in triumph.

"More like you cry when she isn't around."

"Not the point!" 

"There isn't a point! I'm not in love with Derek!" Stiles shouts, standing up and dooming his controller to another fall. 

"Whatever, dude." Scott shrugs and takes his seat again. Stiles glares at him, but sits down when Scott ignores him. 

"Can we just play and never talk about this again?"

Scott shrugs again. "Look, I'm happy that you're finally getting over Lydia. I just wish you'd stop picking impossible people." 

Stiles sighs. He may not be in love with Derek, or even Lydia anymore, but Scott has a point. Lydia was more than impossible. The only time she gave him the time of day was when Jackson broke up with her. And that was all because Allison persuaded her to do so. Not to mention that Lydia was out of her mind at the time, and boy, isn't that an ego booster?

Scott picks up both of their controllers, restarting the game again. Stiles beats him, of course, but his mind isn't all there. He can't stop thinking about Lydia, his dreams, and what Scott said. 

He's not in love with Derek. Right?

*

The dreams stop. Actually, Stiles stops having sex related dreams altogether. He thinks it might have something to do with the fact that he hasn't actually seen Derek in a while, but that hypothesis is crushed when he actually _does_ see Derek, but still has a relatively normal dream that night. At first he's happy because no more dreams mean no more awkward boners. Well, _mostly_ because let's face it; Derek is really attractive and his entire being kind of demands awkward boners. Stiles is pretty sure Derek smells arousal anytime he's in a public space. It has to be some kind of werewolf related curse. 

*

Scott sits across from him in lunch, not bothering to grab a tray. Stiles eyes him carefully as he brings a sporkful of macaroni to his mouth. 

"Not hungry?" He wiggles the spork a bit before finally closing his mouth around it.

Scott winces. "If you could smell half as good as I can, you'd lose your appetite, too." 

"Wow, thanks. Should I be worried?" Stiles continues to chew before swallowing abruptly. "Oh God, are the rumors true? Is it _actually_ plastic cheese?"

"Wouldn't that kill you?" 

"Yes! Which is why I'm asking!"

Scott reaches over and pulls Stiles' tray over to sniff at the pile of macaroni and cheese. A few kids from the table next to them stare is confusion. 

Scott pushes the tray back. "No, not plastic."

Stiles doesn't bother hiding his sigh of relief. "Good. Do you realize how much of this I eat?" He shovels a big sporkful into his mouth for emphasis. 

Scott watches him with a thoughtful expression. "Then again... Not all plastic smells the same, right?"

Stiles chokes. " _Dude!_ "

"Kidding!" Scott grins, raising his hands in surrender. Stiles glares at him but swallows the bit of food in his mouth. They continue to sit in silence, Stiles focused on finishing his lunch and trying not to think about the homework he didn't do for his last period. It is oddly quiet with just the two of them, but they weren't lucky enough to have all of their friends together during their lunch period this semester. 

The drumming of finger tips on the table is enough to stop Stiles' thoughts. Scott seems to be warring with himself over saying _something,_ and Stiles' curiosity leaves no room for patience. 

"Out with it." He demands, pointing at Scott with his spork. He's oddly satisfied when Scott freezes and smiles sheepishly at being caught. 

"It's nothing, really." Scott assures him, scratching idly at his neck. Stiles waits for him to continue with raised eyebrows. "It's just... you haven't been zoning out so much."

Stiles stares at him in disbelief. "I am pretty sure I was just doing that. Just now."

Scott waves him off. "Not _that_ kind of zone." 

"What?"

"It's just," Scotts leans in close to whisper, "Normally you smell like... you know."

"Oh, gross. _Why_ have you been keeping track of that?"

"It's not like I noticed it on purpose! It happens so often that it became routine." Scott glares at him when Stiles gags. "It's your fault. Don't blame me. I asked Allison—"

Stiles almost falls off of his chair. "Why!"

"Well you stopped smelling like that all the time and I was confused! She said maybe you finally found an outlet."

Wishing for the floor to swallow him would be an understatement; at this point, Stiles is practically begging. He pushes his tray aside and lets his head fall onto the table, hard. How and why is this happening to him? His attraction to Derek—he refuses to call it anything else—is bad enough with just Scott and presumably Erica knowing. He does not need Allison to tease him over it too. Not to mention his current _"dry_ _spell."_ It isn't something he wants to talk about. Ever. 

"So?" Scott prompts, completely oblivious to Stiles' mental strife. Or maybe he just doesn't care.

"So?" Stiles parrots without lifting his head. 

"Did you?"

That gets Stiles to sit back up straight. "No! First of all, he doesn't even like me! Two: He doesn't like me!"

Scott smiles at him smugly, arms crossed over his chest. "I'd say otherwise."

It takes a second for Stiles to realize what he's said. He replays his words over in his head and flushes. His forehead hits the table with a loud _thunk._ Scott openly laughs at him, seeming to forget the fact that they're supposed to be best friends. 

"Stiles Stilinski, age 17. Friend and Son. Forever Alone. Death by humiliation." Stiles mumbles under his breath. "My Dad will be so proud."

*

Stiles is going to kill Scott. While Stiles doesn’t believe a word of what Scott said—Derek liking him, God—Stiles’ brain is another demon entirely, and it is willing to take those words for fact. Needless to say, the dreams return, although they’re much different from what Stiles is used to. Instead of rushed, meaningless sex, he actually has _feeling_. And Derek has _feelings_. It’s _feelings_ sex. What the fuck. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for my completely unsexy writing.


End file.
